Religion - Poem by Ambrose Bierce
Hassan Bedreddin, clad in rags, ill-shod,
Sought the great temple of the living God.
The worshippers arose and drove him forth,
And one in power beat him with a rod.
'Allah,' he cried, 'thou seest what I got;
Thy servants bar me from the sacred spot.'
'Be comforted,' the Holy One replied;
'It is the only place where I am not.'
Comments about Religion by Ambrose Bierce
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The Road Not Taken
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